Yesterday I went to a small lunch party at the Mati Hotel a few kilometres from Athens, by the sea in the heart of the area devastated by the fire on the 23rd of July in which about one hundred people lost their lives. The invitation was unrelated to the tragic events but the venue was chosen purposely to support both the owners of the hotel (friends of my friends who issued the invitation) and the area in general.
I must admit that I had no idea what to expect, even though I had been told that the hotel itself had not been directly damaged by the fire. My experience with the area just a few kilometres away is that you can see nothing of the devastation, partly due to hills blocking a clear view; nature, indeed, is verdant and still thriving there, unviolated. And the devastated area is not, in fact, huge, but it was fairly densely populated due to the fact that it was holiday season - most homes there are holiday homes and mainly occupied during the summer.
The Mati Hotel, on the semi-coastal road, is in the heart of the little community of Mati and completely unscathed by the fire, so there it is business as usual though reminders of the fire are all around. On the day of the fire the owners were able to herd both their patrons and others to safety and to fight tooth and nail to keep the hotel intact. Their timely actions not only saved their hotel but probably a good few lives as well.
Looking around the area one is struck by the bizarre way the flames struck, engulfing and obliterating some houses while leaving their neighbouring properties almost untouched. In one instance, literally across the road from the hotel, the lawn of a house remains lush and green while the house is a ruined shell. A similar effect can be seen almost throughout, with some properties devastated and others untouched even if the trees near them are charred stumps. It is as if a malignant, capricious divine entity was playing a game, choosing to destroy some houses and not others on a whim.
With the exception of a few main roads most local neighbourhoods are accessed via little lanes scarcely wide enough for a large car to get through, so it is easy to see how easy it would have been for the whole area to come to a standstill if you added smoke, fire and panic! By all accounts it was extremely hot, difficult to see and breathe, absolutely terrifying; for those visitors not familiar with the local geography this would present a huge problem.
This is not some vast settlement all in ruins, but a small area of a few square kilometres of, ostensibly, forest - in fact an area resembling a city suburb idyllically engulfed in pine trees, the absolute worst vegetation near a fire and a major contributor to the speed and depth of the devastation here. But driving around the destruction seems relatively small, reparable, almost minor. On a warm, sunny day with a pleasant breeze blowing things almost felt normal, safe; in some corners there was little evidence of the ferocity of the fire. The hotel itself showed little signs of what had happened, with a few singed bushes outside bearing witness in an almost bashful way.
Had I not known the scale of the devastation I would never have believed it from what little I saw and, yes, I am aware that the worst of it was a little up the road towards the port of Rafina around the area quaintly called Kokkino Limanaki. But devastating it most certainly was and the locals have started trying to pick up the pieces and rebuild their dwellings and their lives as best they can. The pain is very raw, though, and they will need all the support they can get, mainly from the government but from all of us also. And yesterday I felt my friends and I did our - admittedly little - bit to help, and it did feel good.
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